Her Secret Past Blog Tour

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Blurb:

A past she wants to forget, a secret that will change everything and a hunky guy who should have known better.

It’s no secret that Katrina Quinn has been caught having an affair with her hunky co-star. Hounded by the press she has escaped to Yorkshire, England and the remote seclusion of Copse Cottage. It’s a house packed full of junk and memories—far too much for one woman to handle.

For odd job man Ryan Taylor, being hired to clear clutter while ogling one of Hollywood’s hottest stars seems like easy money. A good way to escape his jealous, drunken girlfriend, Eve, who seems intent on making his life a misery. But Copse Cottage is haunted with his happy past, stirring anew his longing for the girl he used to call the best in the world.

A stolen beat-up suitcase is going to change everything—secrets will be revealed, hearts will be broken all over again and the biggest mystery of all will finally be answered.

Excerpt:

“Ms Quinn, how long has it been going on?”

The microphone pressed insistently under my nose was nothing new, but the question puzzled me. It didn’t make sense. I didn’t answer or enquire further. That’s the first lesson of Celebrity 101— Do not engage with a journo unless you’re in a predetermined interview.

As far as I was concerned it was just another work day—I hadn’t expected the media hordes to greet me outside my Hollywood mansion that morning. The warm sun, the chirping birds, the gentle introduction to another day was completely disturbed by the clamor of camera flashes, hot bodies and microphones. I was completely confused by the mass of yelling at first. I was still waking up. Matt, my blond Adonis of a bodyguard, did his best to push back the eager media but it was a losing battle. I was hurried back into the house while he called for back-up.

“What the hell was that?” he growled after pushing the door shut and locking it.

My stomach sucked and bubbled with nerves. How did I explain it to Matt?

A few days earlier, Brian Paxton had come over to my place for a meal after confessing that he was missing his home comforts.

“God, you’re a wonder, Kat, taking care of an old man like me.”

“Oh hush, you’re not old,” I’d exclaimed, picking up his plate and carrying it over to the sink. There hadn’t been a scrap left on it, just a smear of sauce from the homemade lasagna I’d made.

“Do you want dessert?”

“Does the president live at the White House? Hell yeah, I want dessert. Fuck Cameron. I don’t care if I look bloated tomorrow—this is the best food I’ve eaten in months.” Brian had tapped his stomach, which was still as flat and toned as it had been back in the days when I’d lusted over him from afar.

I’d served up the pavlova, and the conversation had stayed light. The sweet treat had been enjoyed and Brian had even had seconds of dessert. The problem had started after we’d opened that second bottle of wine.

“I’m stuffed,” he’d sighed, throwing himself down onto my red leather sofa. “I wish I didn’t have to go back to the hotel.”

“Well, I’ve got rooms. You could stay here if you want.” I’d shrugged and dropped myself down on the seat beside him.

“Really?”

“Yeah of course. No problem.” I’d radiated laissez-faire but inside I had been a tumult of sexual chemistry. Brian had been beside me, exuding sexiness, smelling of wood, salt and manliness. It had been all I could do not to grab hold of him and snog his face off. But he was married. I’d had to hold myself in check.

I should have thought, should have sent him away and I really shouldn’t have drunk that last glass of wine. We’d sat there in the living room chatting quite innocuously. I had flicked on the TV and hopped through the channels. It had all gone downhill when I’d seen a particular film listing and giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Brian had asked.

“I used to watch this film over and over again when I was younger ‘cause I fancied the arse off you,” My answer had spurted out before I’d thought about it properly.

“Oh, is that right?” He’d crooked his eyebrow at me.

“Yeah, and I used to imagine I was the Mina to your Mike and that we’d kiss and cuddle and, well, you know. You fueled many an orgasm, I can tell you.”

“Dear God, tell me you were of legal age.” He wiped his brow dramatically.

Stalk Me!

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